


metempsychosis

by CaptaInCynophobIa (ferryboats)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M, Gen, Humor, M/M, Probably Crack NGL, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24376756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferryboats/pseuds/CaptaInCynophobIa
Summary: metempsychosis:the transmigration of a soul into a new bodyUchiha Sasuke is born. He remembers being Madara.He isn't the only one who has not forgotten.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Senju Hashirama & Uchiha Madara & Senju Tobirama & Uzumaki Mito, Senju Hashirama/Uzumaki Mito, Uchiha Madara/Senju Tobirama, Uzumaki Naruto & Uchiha Sasuke & Haruto Sakura & Hyuuga Hinata, Uzumaki Naruto/Hyuuga Hinata
Comments: 106
Kudos: 885
Collections: Of Fluff and Crack





	1. rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't really completed and im not sure its going to be but its been floating around on my hard drive for a while so i might as well share

Madara outlived his contemporaries by decades. His dotage was spent isolated and alone in a cave in the dark, clinging to life with clawed arthritic hands, until he could be certain that Uchiha Obito would continue the Moon Eye Plan in his stead – and then he cut the tethers keeping him in the world.

He did not expect to be consciously aware again until someone used his eyes, now the Rinnegan of Uzumaki Nagato, to drag his soul back into the land of living. As such, he was extremely disconcerted to find himself roused suddenly by the chill of wet skin in the open air, naked as the day he was born, surrounded by a chaotic clamouring and shouting and blurring of colour.

He was hungry, tired, confused, and very angry.

So he did what he felt was most logical.

Madara opened his mouth and screamed his discontent at the world in a sort of wordless howl of fury.

He was absolutely not expecting his own voice to be that of a squalling infant, and not that of a grown man.

Upon realising that he had obviously not been reanimated, but rather _reincarnated_ , that he was trapped in the body of a newborn _babe_ , he screamed some more. Shrill and furious and unrelenting, he screamed.

For hours.

The blurry faces of the people he assumed were his parents flitted in and out of his vision, tired and worried, and he shrieked at them and tried to get away. Then other faces, doctors and nurses if he had to guess from the medical masks that covered their mouths and noses, the uniform pastels of their clothing.

“There’s nothing wrong with your child, Uchiha-sama,” one of them assured the man Madara assumed was the sire of his new body.

He stopped screaming, because he suddenly had things to think about other than the fact that he was very angry that he wasn’t still dead.

 _Uchiha-sama_ , the med-nin had said. The man who had sired him was an Uchiha.

 _He_ was still an Uchiha.

Suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion, he fell asleep.

When he woke again, he was being cradled in the arms of the mother of his new body, swaddled warmly, as she sat up in her hospital bed. And there was another child present, perhaps five years old, with big dark eyes and dark hair, pale as the sheets of the hospital bed they were sitting on and dressed in the typical dark shirt and high collar of an Uchiha.

He looked like a typical Uchiha child of that age, if perhaps a little tired, a little withdrawn. His chakra, though, his soul – Madara could _feel_ it. This was his brother, his most precious person. This was _Izuna_.

Izuna, who looked tired and withdrawn and anxious and _so very small_.

Madara squirmed, and grunted, and fought the swaddling until he freed his tiny weak baby arms, and then he reached for his beloved otouto with his clumsy baby fists, and he couldn’t speak, his vocal cords and the muscles in his mouth weren’t developed enough for articulated conversation, but he could make a keening noise of want.

Izuna blinking in surprise, and looked to his mother for guidance, and Madara knew, just as surely as he knew that this was Izuna, that _Izuna did not remember_.

Madara’s new mother smiled down at them both with a contented sort of indulgence. “Itachi, would you like to hold your new baby brother?”

Itachi. Izuna’s new name was _Itachi_. Madara would have laughed for the name _weasel_ following his otouto across lifetimes, but his new body was too small for laughter.

Itachi nodded eagerly, and Madara remained complacent and quiet as his mother taught Itachi how to hold an infant, and arranged him in Itachi’s arms. Then he found himself cuddled close to his brother, who smiled down at him with a sort of childish love, an unspoken promise of protection in his eyes, even as he said: “What did you decide to call him?”

“Sasuke,” Madara’s new body’s sire replied.

“After Hokage-sama’s father?” Itachi asked.

“He was a great man,” Madara’s new father agreed.

And so Madara was born into the world again as Uchiha Sasuke, now the younger brother of Izuna, who had been reborn as Uchiha Itachi.

-

On the other side of the village, a three-month-old little girl with pink hair and green eyes woke up and scowled darkly at the ceiling of her bedroom. Haruno Sakura’s latent sensing ability allowed her to feel everyone in the village without exerting any sort of real effort. Were she to try, she could feel people all the way off in Yuki no Kuni.

Senju Tobirama hadn’t been thrilled about this whole reincarnation business.

Being reincarnated as a little girl was incidental – being reincarnated into a village where Uchiha Izuna was already running around was much more troublesome.

And now Madara had joined him!

No, Haruno Sakura was not pleased about this _at all_.

She was also quite certain that she was not responsible for this in any way, shape or form – though she acknowledged that it was fascinating and when she was older she was going to have to research this in depth, because the implications of being conscious of her own reincarnation were _staggering_. Idly gumming her fist, she kicked her feet, and went back to running through mathematical equations backwards in an attempt to fall asleep.

-

Life proceeded, as it does for babies, in a fairly straightforward fashion. Sakura was a quiet baby who did not sleep, and less _cried_ and rather made a soft whimpering sound when she needed attention. Everyone adored her, to her consternation, and people were constantly stopping her mother in the street so they could coo at her and attempt to tickle her belly.

Sakura always regarded them with large, thoughtful green eyes, and never laughed.

Sasuke, on the other side of the village, was largely regarded as something of a demon child. He screamed. A lot. The moment he was hungry or needed changing, everyone on the block knew, in spite of the privacy seals that had been slapped up on the houses in an attempt to muffle some of the noise he made. The only way to get a moment of peace was to shove him into the arms of Itachi, whereupon he would immediately settle. Itachi appeared harried for the first few weeks, worried about his own ability to care for Sasuke, but in his care Sasuke was a remarkably easy baby.

It was only while Itachi was at the Academy or out with friends and he subsequently had to be left with other members of the clan that Sasuke again became a hellion.

Five months slipped by.

-

Senju Hashirama was born again to blood and death and fire and chaos and the rampaging of the Kyuubi. One moment his parents were there. Namikaze Minto, the Yondaime Hokage – there had been four Hokages now! Konoha was still here! And Uzumaki Kushina, beautiful and redhaired and fiery, and not quite like Mito, but close enough, and Hashirama missed his wife.

The next moment, they were gone slumping to the ground dead, sacrificed themselves to seal the bijuu into Hashirama’s stomach. This was not a comfortable sensation, as the Kyuubi was very, very angry, crying out from behind the bars of the seal at the injustice of being caged again, and Hashirama felt sorry for him. Had it been like this the first time he was sealed, too? But he was still a bijuu and a walking natural disaster, and still better where he was.

Tobirama’s student, Sarutobi Hiruzen, the Sandaime Hokage apparently, came for him not long after, and Hashirama learned that his name was now Naruto, and he was taken away to the orphanage.

He did not like the orphanage.

He promptly resolved to run away just so soon as he could walk.

-

Sasuke spent the night of the Kyuubi attack breathless with panic, with the knowledge that it was Obito who had brought the beast here, Obito who was attempting to fulfil the Infinite Tsukuyomi, but that the plan had placed Itachi, _Izuna_ , still just a small child, in danger. And he was sick and scared and tired, and this was all his fault.

Sakura spent the night of the Kyuubi attack screaming for the first time in her life, the oppressive weight of the bijuu’s unleashed hatred more than she could bare.

-

Uzumaki Mito was born in the quiet of winter, with the snow falling softly outside. She was born into the Main Family of the Hyuuga, a couple of months after the destruction wrought by the rampaging Kyuubi. She took her change in circumstances and her new name – Hyuuga Hinata – in her stride with the same demure grace she had taken almost everything in her previous life.

She did, however, resolve to do something about that disgusting Caged Bird Seal as soon as possible. As a fuuinjutsu master from Uzushio, it offended her enormously, though she would die before she let her revulsion slip into her expression.

And so the last of the greatest of the founding figures were born again into Konohagakure no Sato.


	2. childhood

In some ways, Sasuke was glad that Itachi didn’t remember his time as Izuna. Didn’t remember the hardships of losing their brothers, didn’t remember the constant fighting, didn’t remember the hunger or the pain or the grief. Didn’t remember his death.

Itachi was a gentle, intelligent, and sensitive child inclined towards pacifism, so very different from Izuna, who had been angry and suspicious and closed-off.

But in some ways Sasuke wished Itachi remembered.

Uchiha Fugaku and Uchiha Tajima were two very different men, and yet the weight of Fugaku’s expectation sat as heavy, or heavier even, upon little Itachi’s shoulders as Tajima’s ever had on Madara’s. And unlike Izuna, Itachi didn’t have Madara to draw the attention away from him. There were only so many tantrums Sasuke could reasonably throw to allow Itachi to strategically retreat.

The day after Itachi – only eight years old – returned home from a mission that should have been straightforward with a dead teammate and a brand new Sharingan, Sasuke watched Fugaku tell Itachi how proud he was of him. _Proud_! For watching someone die! He watched Itachi’s expression become forced, his eyes go blank, and Sasuke, furious, pitched a fit.

He couldn’t rage at their father, not for being foolish, not without drawing attention he didn’t want. So, without any real inspiration, he insisted he wanted to go to the playground. That was what three-year-old children generally wanted, wasn’t it? Sasuke, of course, profoundly _did_ _not_ want to go to the playground. While he was very glad that the small children of the village had somewhere safe where they could play together, and it was the sort of sight that could breathe a little warmth into his cold dead heart, he didn’t actually want to interact with any of the contagious little brats.

Unfortunately, Sasuke’s tantrums had become something of legend after he spat fire into Fugaku’s face, singeing off his eyebrows and leaving him with second degree burns when he was eighteen months old, and now he’d kicked up all that fuss he couldn’t do an about face and decide he didn’t want to go to the playground after all.

So, it was with great reluctance that Sasuke held Itachi’s hand in his own and allowed himself to be led to the park, until—

That chakra, there! Behind him!

Sasuke froze dead in his tracks, turning his head just a fraction to the side and activating his Sharingan as he peered over his shoulder out of the extreme periphery of his vision.

There _he_ was. No longer tall and elegant and graceful. Now a little boy probably a little younger than Sasuke himself. Sunshine blonde hair that stuck up in all directions instead of dark that fell in a sleek, gleaming waterfall down his back. Blue eyes that sparkled like the sea reflecting the sky rather than deep, and dark, and warm, like the heart of the woods. Cheeks marked with the same whisker-like lines that barred the Kyuubi’s face. The same healthy tan, though. The same appalling sense of fashion – he was wearing khaki green overalls with a neon orange t-shirt.

Hashirama.

He looked torn between running over to Sasuke and sweeping him into a hug, and slinking away, frozen in the middle of the bustling street just as Sasuke had frozen, and people were giving him a wide berth and disgusted stares because he was filthy, covered in soot and mud and grass stains and detritus that Sasuke didn’t particularly want to investigate closely enough to name.

“What’s wrong?” Itachi asked Sasuke. “Do you need the bathroom?”

Sasuke blinked the Sharingan away and turned to fix him with a furious glare because that was one time, and it was six months ago! It was hardly his fault this body was tiny and useless. His utterly revolted expression spoke for him, and the look Itachi gave him in return was faintly anxious. Then Sasuke turned to face Hashirama fully.

“ _You!_ ” he bellowed, making several people jump in surprise.

Hashirama’s expression became one of wonderment, however, a smile creeping across his face until he was grinning broadly. “Me!” he agreed excitedly, bounding over.

“Why are you disgusting?” Sasuke asked, since he felt it was the most pertinent question here.

“Sasuke, that’s not very nice,” Itachi hissed, but Sasuke ignored him.

“I’m homeless,” Hashirama said, blithely cheerful.

That wasn’t good enough! How poorly run was this stupid village if his idiot of a best friend was a street urchin at _three_? “Why?” Sasuke demanded.

Hashirama’s grin became sheepish. “Ah, well. I didn’t like the orphanage very much, so I ran away.”

Sasuke squinted at him, assessing, then shrugged. “Alright. I’m Sasuke. Who’re you.”

“Naruto!”

Sasuke turned to Itachi. “Naruto’s coming to the park with us,” he announced, in the sort of tone that brooked no argument. “He’s my best friend.” The was the sort of seemingly arbitrary but absolute declaration that Sasuke was already known for making, though he tended to announce them more firmly about things like food preferences and favourite colours than sudden friends. “Naruto, this is my brother, Itachi.”

-

Naruto ran away from the orphanage after he’d developed enough mastery of his gross motor skills to allow for walking and running, and of his fine motor skills for him to eat using chopsticks. He was two and a half. Had he been an ordinary child, this might have taken longer, but he was both a shinobi and he’d raised children with his wife, so he knew not only roughly how babies developed but he had the dedication to work at these skills until they were sufficient for his needs.

For the first handful of weeks, ANBU returned him to the orphanage every night.

He got better at evading them, at masking his brand new and excessively large pool of chakra.

Soon, they were only discovering him once every couple of weeks, and then it had been three months since they last caught him, and he’d been surviving happily on his own.

And then he ran into Madara and Izuna.

Or, Itachi and his little brother Sasuke.

Itachi didn’t remember. Itachi was a quiet boy who Naruto worried about because he carried around a sort of nervous tension.

Sasuke _did_ remember, and he seemed sad sometimes, content others, and very, very scared on the rare occasion when his emotions got the better of him. He never wanted to talk about it, though. Asking was the best way to get his head bitten off, so Naruto just tried to be there unobtrusively when Sasuke was frightened.

Today, they had met again at the park, which had become something of a routine that occurred six days of seven, if not every single day. Sasuke had brought with him a collection of rubber shuriken and kunai given to him at his last birthday, which Naruto was very interested in. They hadn’t had any toys like this back at the orphanage, where everything had been donated and all the toys were owned collectively, and what they had mostly were threadbare stuffed animals missing eyes and limbs and tails and ears and often most of their stuffing besides.

These were also unlike anything he’d had as a child in his last life, when he had been handed a live blade as soon as he could be trusted not to chop his baby fingers off with one.

“Awesome!” he said to Sasuke, already testing the weight of one of the rubber shuriken in his hand.

“I’ve never played with them,” Sasuke admitted.

“Why not? Look how many colours you have!” Hashirama brandished a vibrantly red one at him. “Look!”

Sasuke pouted and looked away, crossed his arms over his chest the way he did when he was huffy. “They’re _juvenile_.”

“We can try them out later,” Naruto decided, resolutely. “And if they’re really too juvenile for you, I have a stash of real shuriken I scavenged from the training grounds. We could go there before Itachi and your cousin get back.”

Sasuke’s expression brightened. “We should go now.”

Naruto scratched the back of his head. “I would, but see that little girl over there? I want to stay until she leaves. And she usually leaves before Itachi comes back for us.”

He motioned to a small girl with fluffy pink hair and green eyes and a deadly serious expression who was crouched at the edge of the playground drawing in the dirt with a stick. A couple of other girls were standing nearby, heckling her about the colour of her hair and the size of her forehead, but the little girl was resolutely ignoring them as she worked.

“What do I care about _literally infantile_ girls, Hashirama?” Sasuke asked, slipping up and calling Naruto by his old name, even as he wrinkled his nose.

Naruto snickered. “That’s not an ‘infantile girl,’ Sasuke. I’m pretty sure that’s Tobirama, and I’m _also_ pretty sure he, or, uh, she remembers, too. Just in case, I want to make sure those other girls don’t hurt her.”

Telling Sasuke might have been a mistake.

Sasuke made an outraged shrieking sound as he staggered furiously to his feet and stomped across the playground towards the little girl. Naruto scrambled up hastily to follow him, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt and holding on as the children around them parted as though Sasuke were a rabid dog. It took Naruto a moment to realise he was leaking Killing Intent, which was not normally something a three-year-old child was capable of, but which was something Madara used to do almost without thinking and which had apparently carried over into this life.

Oops, and now that kid over there was crying, and so was that one.

“Sorry about my friend!” Naruto called, grinning at them sheepishly as he trotted along in Sasuke’s wake.

The little girl had finally looked up from her scribbling in the dirt. “Not another step, Uchiha,” she snarled.

“Why?” Sasuke demanded.

“Because I’m working on an equation, and I’m going to be very put out if you ruin it by stomping all over my work!” she snapped.

Naruto wriggled in under Sasuke’s elbow to look at the lines and squiggles in the dirt, immediately picking out one of the old pictogram-based cyphers they had used back during the first war.

“Why not just do this at home?” Sasuke asked.

“My parents don’t believe I can read,” the little girl replied irritably. “I keep _telling_ them and they keep _babying_ me.” She adopted an even higher-pitched voice than before, imitating the baby-talk that was apparently annoying her so much. “‘Oh, Sakura-chan, it’s so cute you’re looking at kaa-chan’s mission report, but that’s much too advanced for you, sweetheart. How about kaa-chan gets you a nice book with pictures?’” A disgusted scoff. “I don’t want a nice book with pictures. I want to know how the bloody village I died for is actually doing. Not whatever façade they’re putting on for the children.”

“So,” Naruto said. “What’s all this, then, Tobi?” He gestured to the ground.

“It’s Sakura now,” she grumbled. “And I’m trying to work out how I came back. I was perfectly happy being dead. I lived a long enough life, and even if I didn’t accomplish all I wanted to in the end, it was good enough. And now here I am, again, in the body of a _little girl_.”

“This whole thing wasn’t your doing then?” Sasuke asked her, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“No. Don’t be absurd, Uchiha. I wouldn’t deliberately subscribe to this hell. Hashirama, you have realised you have the Kyuubi sealed in your gut, right?”

Naruto nodded. “Yep! It happened the night I was born. Let me tell you, I was _really_ confused. I kind of like him, though. Carrying him around is a bit like carrying around a piece of Mito, and I don’t feel so lonely. I’m so glad you’re both here with me, my family who I love so dearly, even if there are people missing!”

Sasuke, inexplicably, looked away, up at the Hokage Monument, his expression sad and the slump of his shoulders defeated.

“Yeah,” he agreed, quietly.

“Well,” Sakura said. “I’m not. I’ve got lots of plans and things to sort out, and you’re in my way. Shoo.”

They shooed.

“Tobirama hasn’t changed much, has he?” Naruto said, cheerfully.

Sasuke said nothing, for he was still staring up at the mountain, his little face scrunched up in thought.

-

Hyuuga Hinata was considered a quiet child. Some thought her a little shy. Her parents and the Hyuuga elders, however, found her a pleasing child. She picked up the rules of etiquette naturally, through observation, needing little instruction. She excelled in both the dojo, with her father, and in the study. Her tutors gave glowing praise over the speed with which she picked up her kanji and kana, her chakra theory and her arithmetic.

If only she weren’t so interested in fuuinjutsu, to the point it got in the way of her other studies.

No one really knew where that fascination had come from, and it seemed rather unusual for a child of not yet three to cheerfully sequester themselves in a study to work on their calligraphy – it was beautiful calligraphy, too – to better be able to seal. Uzumaki Mito, however, wanted to regain the muscle-memory of her old life as soon as possible. This childish chicken-scratch she was reduced to was downright embarrassing.

She once sealed the Kyuubi no kitsune _on the fly_.

And then her third birthday rolled around.

She was introduced for the very first time to her little cousin Neji, who was to be her protector. Hinata didn’t especially think she needed a protected, but ships sank if they didn’t roll with the waves. So she accepted this new situation with as much aplomb as possible – though she might only be three years old, she felt far too old to deal with a small child dogging her every step anymore. It had all seemed so much easier with her own children, back when she was a young woman, and not a grandmother, one who had outlived those beloved children. And one of her grandchildren. Dear Nawaki.

Her party was not a child’s party.

It was a political affair for the adults. A number of clan heads had been invited, along with their spouses. Some, like the Aburame and the Yamanaka, had brought their children, stuffed into tiny, immaculate formal kimono. Others, like the Nara and the Inuzuka, had elected to leave their offspring at home.

“It’s his naptime,” Hinata overheard Nara Yoshino apologising to her mother. The Hyuuga one. “I would have brought him, but he would’ve been terribly cranky.”

Inuzuka Tsume’s children were hellions oft complained about. No explanation was needed for their absence.

And then the Uchiha arrived, unfashionably late.

“I’ve never been to a party before!” shouted the little Uzumaki boy, the jinchuuriki that everyone pretended didn’t exist, who Hinata wasn’t even allowed to ask about and was therefore all the more interested in because if this child was the jinchuuriki of the Kyuubi, then what happened to Kushina? And why was everyone so cagey about him? Her father had even expressly informed her to keep away from him, for he could be dangerous. That was nonsense, since he was just a little boy.

The boy tripped over the hem of his filthy orange kimono and landed on his face in the dust. For a moment, everyone held their breath, expecting him to start bawling, but instead he sat up with a grin, somehow even grubbier than before. “Haha! Oopsie me!”

It was at about this time that Hinata met the left eye of the Uchiha spare, Sasuke, his right eye covered by the fall of his hair.

His Sharingan flashed.

Her eyes became flinty.

“You!” Sasuke shrieked, at the top of his lungs, pointing at her. “Harpy! Witch! Begone, vile demon, or I’ll set your hair on fire!”

So, Uchiha Madara had been reincarnated, too. “Villain! Scum!” she cried, shedding her image of polite female heir and adopting the fierce kunoichi, the one who had held back the Fox Demon for decades through the strength of her own will. “Defiler! Treacherous rat! Run away and never come back!” With a wild ululating battle cry, she launched herself at him, wishing she had the seals she had left back in her room because they weren't appropriate for the party, but perfectly willing to settle this with the taijutsu her new parents had been drilling into her since she could stand.

Uzumaki Naruto wailed in familiar dramatics, tugging at his hair, as Hinata and Sasuke rolled in the dirt, brawling, biting, hissing, scratching at each other’s faces and pulling each other’s hair, until they were eventually pulled apart by Uchiha Fugaku and Hyuuga Hizashi.

It looked like this wouldn’t be the generation where the Uchiha and the Hyuuga settled their differences, either.

Hinata, however, was so ecstatic that she had trouble keeping her composure. Hashirama was here! So was Madara, which was a shame, but not such a detraction from her mood as she might have suspected.


	3. childhood ii

Uchiha Fugaku wasn’t really sure how it happened but he and his wife somehow seemed to have acquired an additional child. The Hokage had gravely informed them that they would not be allowed to take in Naruto, not with the possibility that the Sharingan could have been used to turn the Kyuubi upon Konoha. Mikoto’s grief had been quiet, but he had not missed it. Kushina had been her best friend, and Fugaku might have found her… trying. But that her child, the Yondaime Hokage’s child, was to be raised as an orphan… No, he didn’t like it.

He was a good shinobi, though.

He would obey.

And then one day Sasuke came home from the park complaining about some poor child that he called: “That stupid tree trunk.” At the time, neither Fugaku nor Mikoto knew he was talking about a child and not an actual tree. Sasuke… Fugaku _could_ not lie. Everyone knew he was a bit of an odd duck. It would be entirely within his character to decide, without rhyme or reason, that he despised any given tree at the playground. Afterwards, though, he began to up and leave the compound on his own. When questioned about where he’d been, he often replied that he’d gone to see the tree trunk.

He didn’t think very much of it. His son was just becoming a little more independent. That was fine.

Right up until Sasuke brought a very dirty, very smelly Uzumaki Naruto home for a bath.

At this point in time, it was well known that the jinchuuriki of the Kyuubi was homeless. It was also known that every time he was returned to the orphanage, he ran away again. Rumour had it, the Hokage had even tried to put the child in an apartment. Even that didn’t work, though, because the neighbours hadn’t been happy. The apartment was vandalised overnight, and the boy vanished once again onto the streets, just another parentless urchin with quick fingers. After the Kyuubi, after the war, Konoha had more than a few.

Fugaku was in his study when he heard the screaming of a child. Not laughter-squeals, but horrified screaming.

A policeman of many years, he was out of his chair, down the hallway, and out the door into the yard in moments.

There, he found his son, Sasuke, with the garden hose, nose crinkled in disgust as he sprayed down another child, who was the one howling in dismay. “My roots, my roots, you’re drowning my roots! My precious earth! It’s being washed _away_.”

“Sasuke,” Fugaku began, feeling his fury bubble up.

Sasuke, who was something of an insolent little brat and absolutely nothing like Itachi, who was a good son, spared him barely a glance. “Tou-san,” he said.

“What are you doing?”

“The stupid tree is dirty and needs a bath, but he’s too dirty to come into the house, so he needs to be washed here, first,” Sasuke explained. He turned back to the poor child he was showering with the garden hose. “Hey, moron, get those rags off! They’ll smear mud all over the floors and I’m not cleaning after you, you get it?”

The child kept crying about his dirt being washed away, but obligingly began to peel the filthy rags he was dressed in off.

Fugaku, utterly befuddled, had gone to fetch a towel for the shivering boy. A half hour later, Uzumaki Naruto came tumbling out of his bathroom, wrestling playfully with Sasuke. He was still there at dinner, when Sasuke asked if his little friend could stay. More specifically, he asked if “the tree stump” could say. Thinking he meant overnight, Mikoto agreed with only mild befuddlement, and set another place at the table. That night, he shared Sasuke’s futon and borrowed a spare pair of his pyjamas.

He was _still there_ a week later, borrowing Sasuke’s clothes and sharing his futon, and Fugaku was at a loss.

The Hokage called him to his office. The whole council was there, Danzou included. They weren’t pleased with the Uchiha hosting the jinchuuriki. The Sharingan business again. Fugaku was told to remedy the situation. He’d been trying to think of a way to do that all week, but Sasuke and Naruto had obviously been friends for some time by now. Separating them was proving, to borrow a word from Shikaku, troublesome.

“What am I supposed to do?” he demanded of them. “It wasn’t me who invited him. Should I just put him out like a cat?”

“If that’s what it takes.” Sarutobi Hiruzen looked older than ever these days.

It didn’t work. Sasuke took to leaving his window open, and Naruto was back in their house by breakfast time every day.

-

One sunny summer afternoon, a few months before the start of their first term at the Academy, between lazy naps on the engawa of the house of the Head of the Uchiha Clan, Sasuke asked whether Naruto wanted to be Hokage again. He felt anxious, as he watched Naruto screw up his face in thought, and he wasn’t sure why.

“No!” Naruto declared, after several seconds of serious contemplation. “Definitely not.”

Sasuke blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Naruto hugged himself, giving a full-bodied shudder. “All that paperwork, Sasuke. It’s not worth it. I never want to be a paper-pushing bureaucrat ever _again_. I’m a _shinobi_.”

Sasuke wasn’t sure whether he was relieved by this answer or not.

-

Senju Tobirama wrote the entire core curriculum for the Shinobi Academy. It might have been added to here and there, over the years, but the foundation had been his. Haruno Sakura profoundly did not wish to have to attend the Academy, but she also couldn’t imagine not being a shinobi. Tobirama had been a shinobi from as far back as he could remember, right through to his death. Sakura couldn’t fathom not being a shinobi. The idea of adopting the lifestyle of a civilian woman was – she couldn’t comprehend it.

It was so far beyond the realm of her experience, that the very idea was terrifying. Not even the horrible prospect of the monumental boredom of six years of Academy training was enough to make her seriously consider civilian life.

It was with a sense of dread that Sakura woke on the first day of the first term at the Academy. She readied herself, dressing in the – frankly awful – little red dress her mother had got specially for this day, saying: “You want to look nice, dear, don’t you?”

No. Looking nice or not was irrelevant. The human eye was naturally drawn to red more than any other colour. Choosing to wear _bright red_ clothes was _beyond_ impractical.

She could have walked herself to the Academy. She knew the way – she had designed these streets. She would hardly get lost. It wasn’t so far she was at risk of wearing herself out. Her parents were intent upon coddling her, however, and _insisted_ upon escorting her.

So it was that Sakura stomped into the school yard, scowling heavily, where one of the chuunin instructors spoke to her parents – not her, it was like she wasn’t even _here_! – and she was sent to sit down with the other little six-year-olds. A moment later, and Naruto trotted over, towing a little Hyuuga girl Sakura was unacquainted with by the hand, Sasuke stomping along behind him looking constipated.

“Hi, Sakura!” Naruto cried, cheerfully, flopping down beside her.

“Sakura- _san_ ,” she corrected him, primly.

He pouted at her. “Why do I have to be formal, though? I know you so much better than that!”

“From the park,” Sasuke growled, squinting at her. “We know you from the park.” What an idiot. Did he think he looked tough like that? He was _six_ , all chubby cheeks and fluffy hair. He sounded about as fierce as a kitten. Of course, he was still Uchiha Madara, so he should be regarded with a certain amount of wariness. But he was _six_. In this era, children hadn’t even started to learn shinobi skills by six.

“Sakura,” Naruto said, drawing her attention away from Sasuke. “Sakura! This is Hinata! Hinata, this is Sakura. When I’m older, I’m going to marry Hinata.”

Sakura— blinked. Surprised.

Marry? Surely Naruto couldn’t have been entered into an arranged marriage? He’d hardly been born a handful of hours before his parents lives blinked out of existence, and they had spent that time trying to combat the rampaging Kyuubi… Ah, Sakura understood. Hashirama had found his wife. Tobirama’s nee-chan. She took a moment to analyse the Hyuuga girl’s chakra. Mito had had enormous chakra reserves, reserves that increased exponentially after she sealed the Kyuubi within herself. To Tobirama, opening his chakra sense to Mito had been a little like staring directly at the sun through a magnifying glass. It hurt. To Sakura, Hinata’s chakra was small and tidy.

Hinata smiled demurely at Sakura. There was something, somehow, vulpine about it that Sakura could not pinpoint.

Yes, Sakura could see Mito in her.

“Hello, Hinata-chan,” she said. “Good to meet you.”

“Sakura-chan,” Hinata replied. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“I’m sure. Tell me, Hinata-chan, are you, too, dreading having to attend six years of the Academy before you can graduate to a genin team?”

Hinata nodded. “Yes. While I fundamentally agree with a standardised shinobi qualification so shinobi are not being sent on missions they are ill-equipped to handle, I would really rather not have to experience it first-hand.”

“Wait a minute,” Sasuke said, butting in. “What do you mean we have to be here for _six years_? Itachi graduated in one!”

Sakura frowned. “Someone was fast-tracked? That’s not supposed to be possible.”

“It is,” Sasuke insisted.

Well, that went against several of the policies Tobirama had put into place regarding graduation ages and skipping years to prevent the thing they had all agreed on when they founded this village: battlefields and dangerous missions were no place for children.

On the other hand, she could exploit— _No!_ What was she thinking?

She turned to Naruto and Sasuke. “Which we will _not_ be doing. There should be no children on battlefields. Not even us. _Remember,_ Uchiha?”

Sasuke regarded her with a narrow-eyed glare for a long moment. Sakura could practically see the cogs turning in his brain. What an idiot. “Fine, Haruno,” he ground out. “You’ll get your blasted six years.”

Predictably, Naruto moaned in dismay. He had probably been hoping to breeze through the Academy as quickly as possible, like he did all things in life. Well, tough. The Sandaime – _kami-sama_ Hiruzen had got _old_ , what was he, _seventy_? – who was giving a speech about the Will of Fire that none of them were listening to, paused to peer in their direction. Then he sighed and continued speaking as if nothing had happened. Was he acquainted with Naruto already?

Or perhaps just having flashbacks of Hashirama that he couldn’t explain?

-

Just when Hinata had got used to the idea of Neji following her everywhere, her mother started vomiting in the mornings. She began to drink ginger tea at all hours of the day, and occasionally Hinata caught her just standing there, smiling to herself, a hand resting upon her stomach. Now, Uzumaki Mito had borne Hashirama a couple of good, healthy babies before they decided not to risk testing the Kyuubi’s seal further. She knew exactly what a woman who had recently discovered she was pregnant looked like.

And so, some weeks later, Hinata found herself being interrupted from her “calligraphy” by her parents, who broke the news to her that she would have a little brother or sister.

It is important to note that at this point she was no longer actually practising calligraphy, but had snuck into the village to purchase sealing paper, and she was industriously producing sheaves of her most useful seals, to be kept on her person at all times. That the shinobi from Kumo who had attempted to kidnap her did so while she was in her room, where she had been hiding most of her completed seals, was sheer luck. He could have snatched her from anywhere. Until her chakra control was good enough to lay seals without ink or paper, she was never going to be unarmed again. Who knows _what_ might have happened if she hadn’t paralysed him and knocked him out before she flared her chakra for ANBU to come take him away.

A grown man attempting to kidnap a little girl from her own bedroom. Disgusting.

Anyway. Her mother was going to have a baby. Hinata knew a lot about babies, after her own two children, and then two grandchildren being foisted on her regularly as well. She tried to be pleased for her parents. She really did! Mostly, however, she was indifferent.

On the one hand, a new child in the house would be a distraction. She would have more chances to sneak out to meet up with Naruto. Shame that Sasuke would often be there, too. And now she knew about Sakura, she might go and visit her, as well. Tobirama had been a good friend to her. It was such a relief to realise he had somehow been reborn, too, even if it was a little bit odd to discover him in the face of a little girl with cherry-blossom pink hair.

On the other hand, babies cried. They smelled. Everyone around her would be tired and irritable for weeks and weeks until a new routine was established.

Somehow, it all boiled down to the fact that she wasn’t enjoying having a second childhood overmuch. Oh, when she was old and grey and her joints ached, she used to long for the days when she was a young girl, frolicking in the shallows under the sun on the island of Uzushio, but really, childhood was so _tedious_ for someone with the mind of an adult.

She smiled politely at her parents, and retreated to the garden to work through her katas.

Some months later, she was pleasantly surprised to realise that the baby sister, Hanabi, she was holding felt a lot like Senju Touka.

She wondered if Touka would remember anything. Izuna didn’t. Whether or not Kagami did was debatable.


	4. academy

“HARUNO, YOUR TREACHERY KNOWS NO BOUNDS!” Uchiha Sasuke hollered, at the very top of his rather impressive set of lungs. He leapt up from his desk, vaulting somewhat clumsily across the classroom. Haruno Sakura looked up from the set of space-time trigonometric equations she was scribbling out on the back of the simple arithmetic test the class was supposed to be filling out, her eyes widening fractionally.

Then she, too, was out of her seat, and a moment later she had vanished out the window, Sasuke hot on her heels – wielding a live kunai. They weren’t even using those yet, they wouldn’t start until next year. Goodness only knew where he got it from.

Iruka watched them go with a sense of helplessness, knowing he couldn’t leave an entire class of six-year-olds unattended just to chase them down. If he had a class of older children, he might be able to assign an hour or two of self-study, but this class of ninja-in-training had enrolled with the intake group last term. They were still learning to read and write, most of them! He couldn’t possibly leave them untended.

He was their fifth homeroom teacher in less than two terms of class.

Hokage-sama made it out like the Kyuubi brat was the reason for this, but three weeks into his career as a chuunin-sensei, and Umino Iruka would vehemently argue otherwise.

Speak of the devil.

“Sensei,” Naruto said, also getting up from his desk. He looked a bit wobbly. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

Iruka had been a chuunin-sensei for only three weeks, but already he had learned that that was one of the most terrifying things a child could ever say to their teacher. His heart felt like it plunged into his stomach. “You’re excused,” he croaked, urgently, throat suddenly dry, pulse thrumming rapidly in his ears. “Quick, Naruto! Run!” He pointed at the door, and Naruto wavered for a moment, a hand going to cover his mouth—

He bolted.

Whether or not he made it to the bathroom on time, Iruka would not know, because he still had twenty-odd children he couldn’t leave unsupervised. Naruto didn’t return, so Iruka supposed he’d gone to the office of the on-site iryou-nin and was either still there, or had been sent home. He popped in to see her, during the break for a snack and some exercise that the children had at midmorning. It wasn’t his day to watch the kids on morning break, so he had time.

“Is Naruto feeling any better, or did you send him home?” Iruka asked, poking his head a little warily through the door.

“Who?” she asked him.

Oh, no. _Oh, no_.

“You haven’t seen Uzumaki Naruto today?”

“The Kyuubi container?” the iryou-nin clarified. “No. I’ve never seen him.”

Iruka would have worried he was a terrible teacher, if five chuunin-sensei before him hadn’t spent a week or two with this particular class before throwing their arms in the air and either taking early retirement or going back to active shinobi careers. Apparently, after a mere three weeks, he held the record for lasting the longest of anyone. There wasn’t something wrong with him. Somehow, there was something wrong with the class.

No one was quite sure what.

Rumour was, if Iruka failed Hokage-sama was bringing in Morino Ibiki next.

Iruka couldn’t fail. Those poor children. Not even the Kyuubi jinchuuriki deserved that… Even if he had manipulated Iruka into sending him out of the classroom and then _skived off_!

-

“Hiruzen, this situation is untenable. We cannot leave the Kyuubi jinchuuriki in the hands of the very Uchiha who may have turned the beast on the village in the first place!”

Danzou was pacing back and forward in front of Hiruzen’s desk. Or, well, leaning heavily on his staff and limping back and forward. Hiruzen felt exhausted just watching him. “You don’t truly believe that, old friend. You know as well as I that the Uchiha were assisting with the civilian evacuation during the Kyuubi attack,” Hiruzen said. “They are as much a part of this village as any other clan – they suffered casualties, the same as we all did.”

Danzou stopped, his staff thumping loudly upon the floor one last time, as he whirled to face Hiruzen at his desk. “Surely you aren’t that naïve.”

“I think you’re being paranoid, Danzou. But if you must insist on Naruto-kun being removed from his current accommodations, you are more than welcome to try and house him yourself.” Hiruzen was not blind. He knew ROOT still operated in the dark, beneath Konoha. He knew that Danzou would take this as permission to try and induct Naruto-kun into his order, just as he knew that Naruto had been evading some of his very best ANBU teams, teams specialised in tracking a target, since he was three years old.

The boy was either a prodigy, or a savant genius, but either way, Danzou would have his work cut out for him.

“I will,” Danzou growled, and limped out of Hiruzen’s office.

The Hokage hoped he wasn’t making a terrible mistake.

-

At about midmorning, Sarutobi Hiruzen found he his stack of paperwork was back down to a manageable level, and that he was between meetings. With a pleased little sigh, he lit his pipe and reached for his hidden copy of Jiraiya’s latest volume of _Icha-Icha_. He deserved a little time to himself every now and again. He was a very busy man, after all, and it was very unhealthy to work and work with no respite.

He didn’t want to work himself into the grave.

A knock came at the door just as he had found the page he left off of. Cursing under his breath, he stuck his thumb between the pages and flipped it closed, hiding it in his lap beneath his desk.

“Yes, what is it?” Hopefully something quick.

The undercover ANBU agent who pretended to be his receptionist opened the door. “Hokage-sama, neither have an appointment, but Uchiha Fugaku-sama and Hyuuga Hiashi-sama are here to see you. Fugaku-sama says it’s _urgent_.”

Uh oh.

“Send them in, then,” Hiruzen said, hastily stuffing his book back into its hiding place. He had just managed to arrange his hands neatly on the desk when Fugaku strode in, expression stormy, followed only a step behind by Hiashi – who looked perhaps a little more severe than usual.

“Hokage-sama,” Fugaku began.

“GIVE ME BACK NARUTO OR I’LL RAZE THIS VILLAGE TO THE GROUND! I WILL HAVE VENGEANCE FOR THIS INJUSTICE!” shouted the very small Uchiha hanging off of Fugaku’s police uniform like a little monkey.

Uchiha Sasuke. A lad about whom Hiruzen had heard much, but had never met in person.

To his credit, although he looked furious, and Hiruzen knew that the Uchiha Clan Head was quite certain precisely what had happened to young Naruto, Fugaku still made an attempt at calming his spitting, hissing son. “No, Sasuke, we don’t know for certain—”

“YES WE _DO_ KNOW.”

“Sasuke, the word of a seven-year-old girl against the Hokage—”

The small boy whirled upon his father with dramatic flair that Hiruzen had seen grown shinobi lack. “Haruno might be a cold-hearted, deceitful, conniving _demon_ , but she’s never wrong,” he announced with the absolute certainty of childhood.

“I’m right here, Uchiha,” said the little pink-haired girl who had padded kunoichi-silent into the room behind Hyuuga Hiashi.

Just to be contrary, it seemed, Hiashi said: “I am inclined to believe the words of Haruno Sakura.” A gesture toward his own face, a reminder of just how powerful his eyes were and how much he saw but politely refrained from speaking out on. “Hokage-sama, I would like an explanation as to why Councilman Shimura is in personal possession of the Kyuubi jinchuuriki.”

Hiruzen was wary. “What interest do the Hyuuga have in the boy?”

“Only his continued safety,” Hiashi said, milder than milk.

The Hyuuga heiress, who had accompanied him, said: “We’re engaged to be married, of course, Hokage-sama.”

 _What_ now.

That child was too independent.

Later.

“That’s a serious accusation, Hiashi,” Hiruzen said.

Hiashi inclined his head. “And yet when my daughter raised her concerns with me, I brought it to Fugaku-dono. And now, after not inconsiderate deliberation, we lay it at your feet, Hokage-sama. Please, enlighten us, the citizens of Konohagakure no Sato. Where is the jinchuuriki?”

He was too old for this.

-

“Danzou, you need to give Naruto back.”

Danzou was looking at a hole in the roof of his little base. Hiruzen wasn’t sure, he was fairly certain senility must be settling in or else everything wouldn’t feel quite so out of his control, but he didn’t think that hole used to be there. The great twisting roots of a strangler fig were growing down from the surface above.

“He already left,” Danzou said, his face twisted with displeasure.

“Oh, good then. By the way, it turns out our fears were quite unfounded. None of the adult Uchiha have ensnared him with the Sharingan. He stays with the Uchiha Clan because he’s made a little friend with Sasuke. You know, Fugaku’s son. The, uh, the shouty one, not the polite one.”

Danzou said nothing. Hiruzen thought that was the end of the conversation and turned to leave.

Then—

“He has the Mokuton.”

No. Oh, _no_. “Danzou, you _didn’t_ ,” Hiruzen said.

But Danzou was still staring up at the roots of that strangler fig, scowling. Was that perplexion furrowing his brow so deeply? “That’s the thing, though, old friend. You’re right. I didn’t.”

-

“We need to make a decision,” Sakura announced, over her plate of anmitsu. “Are we going to rig the genin team selections?”

“Rig the… team selections?” Naruto asked, his face scrunching up as he tried to work through that thought. “Huh? Are you supposed to be able to do that?”

Short answer: no. It was not supposed to be possible. Tobirama had left behind a specific method for ensuring all genin teams were as balanced as possible. Long answer: Sarutobi Hiruzen was a blundering fool and had seen fit to create a new tradition, where the dead last of the class was paired up with the top scoring boy and girl from the same class. Sometimes one of those top-scoring children would even be Rookie of the Year.

Granted, although this had the potential to create horrifically unbalanced teams doomed to go down in flames before they ever managed to take flight, as in the case of the team that had belonged to Namikaze Minato, it has also been proven to work. The Sannin were legendary, their prowess during the Second Shinobi World War had been unparalleled.

They had also fallen apart later in life, and Sakura had been immensely displeased to discover that Tobirama’s grandniece, Senju Tsunade, was now little more than a wandering, gambling drunk. Orochimaru, on the other hand, was a nuke-nin with a reputation almost worse than Uchiha Madara’s, somehow. And… Jiraiya was Konoha’s spymaster, but he spent his days writing erotic literature.

However, the fact that this team existed meant that if they manipulated the class rankings there was the potential for three of them to end up on the same team.

“Yes,” Sakura said. “If one of us scrapes through with the lowest passing grade, he will be placed with the top kunoichi and shinobi from his class.”

“There are four of us,” Hinata pointed out, in her usual delicate way, her displeasure only just barely hidden. “The genin teams are of three.”

“They are,” Sakura replied. “Naturally, Naruto will score lowest.”

“Aw, Sakura. Be nice,” Naruto whined from where he was slumped over on their restaurant table, half-way to sleep, but it was half-hearted at best. “I could be top of the class.”

She fixed him her patented glare. “It would mean buckling down and working.”

“I can score lowest,” he agreed, immediately.

“Wait, so I have to do _all_ the work?” Sasuke asked.

“Unless you don’t want to be on a team with Naruto, yes,” Sakura said.

Sasuke cursed. Sleepily.

And Sakura turned at last to Hinata. “May the best kunoichi win.”

Hinata smiled. It was a nasty smile, one that promised retribution at some unknown point in the future. “Indeed. I hope you’re up for it, Sakura-chan. Let us see whether my experience as a kunoichi, or your adaptability, will prove best. I hope you’re prepared, dear.”

-

“Fugaku, think about it, please. A coup—”

“For the last time, I said no! We’re doing well. A little slander is nothing. Do you see _any_ other clan trusted enough to host the jinchuuriki? No? We’re being _honoured_ , Elder Katsuhito. Now take your proposal back to the council, report my decision, argue amongst yourselves if you must. I don’t care. We might be able to take the village. We might not. I won’t risk our people because your pride is hurt. Especially not when we are being trusted implicitly with the ongoing safety of village’s greatest and most volatile weapon.”


	5. genin days i

“Produce three bunshin.”

Naruto tried. He _really_ did. But he just had too much chakra. He used to have lots of chakra! But now he had even more, and it was terrible. Two of the clones exploded into smoke immediately, without even taking shape. The sad, singular clone that remained was colourless and see-through, and seemed to lack the ability to stand on its own, slumping over onto the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. Then, because he’d overloaded it with _way too much_ chakra, it burst prematurely.

“Oopsie.”

Mizuki-sensei frowned. “Iruka, surely we could pass him…?”

But Iruka-sensei shook his head, fixing Naruto with an expression of compassionate pity, and reached for the stamp to label Naruto’s exam papers as failed. “I’m sorry, Naruto, but I’m going to have to—”

“Wait!” Naruto cried, desperately. He had no doubt that Hinata and Sakura and Sasuke would have passed, effortlessly. For Naruto who had once been Senju Hashirama, Shodai Hokage, Shinobi no kami, to fail the _genin exam_ , it would be the epitome of embarrassment. He would _never_ be able to show his face in Konoha again. He might have to run away to the Land of Rice and take up farming. “Does it _have_ to be a regular bunshin? What if I can do a _different_ clone jutsu? Watch!” He hastily created three wood clones, who popped up out of the floor, all of them staring at Iruka-sensei with a sort of expectant hope. Iruka-sensei blinked. And then he sighed.

 _Of course_ Naruto would have been able to use the Mokuton to make clones but had persevered with the Academy standard bunshin for years anyway.

“You pass. But by the skin of your teeth, Naruto! _What_ are these answers on your written exam? I _know_ you’re smarter than this. Now come and get your hitai-ate before I change my mind.”

-

“Team Seven: Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto—”

Naruto leapt out of his chair, cheering. Iruka ignored him, well used to his antics after six years.

“—And Haruno Sakura.”

Sakura sat back in her seat, looking smug. Hinata, sitting in the row in front of her, turned around to fix her with a glare. “Cheater,” she hissed.

Sakura’s smirk widened. “I didn’t cheat, Hinata-chan.”

Those two were either the very best friends, or they detested each other, and Iruka wasn’t entirely certain which it was – much like Sasuke and Naruto, actually. He didn’t care to wonder why the two girls had been competing for top kunoichi, or why Sasuke had fought tooth and nail for the spot of top boy. Iruka had even caught Sasuke and Sakura sitting together sometimes during the lunch hour, neither of them looking especially pleased, as Sakura tutored the Uchiha in the areas he was academically weakest.

As if he weren’t going to have the highest scored of any of the boys to come through these doors in the past _half century_. In fact, if Sakura weren’t a part of the class he might have even been Rookie of the Year.

Though, if he kept in mind Naruto and Sasuke’s friendship, Naruto’s abysmal exam results suddenly started to make sense…

Iruka wasn’t going to dig too deeply into it. A group of pre-genin couldn’t have played the system, and if they _had_ somehow managed then they probably deserved the team they worked so hard for.

-

Hatake Kakashi, who was late to everything by design, sauntered into the classroom to pick up his genin at about sunset. They were not there. He stood in the doorway, blinking at the empty room, and then wandered out again to check the number over the classroom door. Better make sure he was in the right place! It would be very embarrassing to have walked into the wrong room by mistake. He was a jounin. He was an expert at information gathering and navigation.

Yes, it would be very shameful to turn up at the wrong place.

But, this was the right room.

… And his genin weren’t here.

They’d been told to stay, hadn’t they?

So, where were they?

-

Lodging a complaint about his lack of professionalism with the Hokage, those insubordinate little brats. Of course.

-

By the time he’d managed to shepherd them out onto the roof of the Academy, it was full dark, and the children were all looking cross. Probably because it was past dinner time and they were hungry. Children, Kakashi seemed to very vaguely recall Kushina saying to Minato once, back when he’d been six and a chuunin and grouchy, did better with routine meals and bedtimes. Oh well. They were shinobi now, much like he had been, and were no longer beholden to such civilian rules as regular meals and bedtimes.

Actually, Sasuke looked more nauseous and like he’d seen a ghost than irritable. Itachi must’ve been telling him things about Team Ro that were supposed to be confidential. Naughty.

Kakashi ushered them over to the stairs and had them sit, perching coolly on the railing before them.

“Now, why don’t we introduce ourselves.”

The little brats stared at him blankly.

“Just tell me your name, your likes, your dislikes. Hobbies. Dreams for the future. That sort of thing,” he prompted them.

Sasuke looked like he was contemplating leaping up to go vomit over the rails. Naruto stared at him without the faintest hint of recognition. Sakura’s expression was, frankly, terrifying. If he didn’t know better, he would suspect she was a part of ROOT from the complete lack of emotion upon her face.

No one said anything.

Kakashi sighed. “Alright, since there are no volunteers, I’ll choose. Pinkie, you first.”

Oh look! An emotion. Unfortunately, it was not the outraged gasp he was expecting from the little girl. Instead, it was a disdainful curling of lip. “Haruno Sakura,” she said, in a clipped tone. “The rest is irrelevant. If we’re to be professional, we will work together regardless.”

Kami-sama. She reminded him of _himself_. Better move on. “Right, blondie. You’re up.”

“I’m Uzumaki Naruto!” sensei’s son said, with Kushina’s enthusiasm. “I like plants. And ramen. I don’t like it when people are mean to me. And I want to be a good shinobi.”

Kakashi’s eyebrow crept up. Naruto wanted to be a good shinobi. Not a great one. Not a famous one. Just good. How unexpectedly humble. He tilted his head toward Sasuke, who still looked like he was trying not to puke. Did the kid eat something bad earlier or something? He seemed to alright back at the Hokage’s office. “You. Go.”

“Uchiha Sasuke,” the boy rasped, and then clammed up.

-

“Sasuke, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Sasuke said nothing, and he _did not_ think of Obito’s eye hidden beneath Kakashi’s slanted hitai-ate. He _definitely_ didn’t wonder about where Obito was now, or how far he and Zetsu had come with his greatest mistake: the Eye of the Moon Plan.

-

“Teamwork,” Sasuke sneered. “He’s testing our ability to put aside our differences and work as a team.”

Sakura, sitting upon a tree branch beside him, hummed thoughtfully. “I should hope so. I was the one to implement the teamwork test, after all.”

“I will work with you this once, but I want you to know I would sacrifice you for a piece of dropped onigiri, Haruno.”

Sakura smirked at him. “I’d sacrifice you for free, Uchiha.”

Sasuke choked on his own saliva. Sakura found it very satisfying.

Crouched in a bush at the foot of the tree, Naruto whined. “Can you stop flirting and help me think of a strategy?”

“WE’RE NOT FLIRTING, UZUMAKI!”

A flock of birds took flight, and Kakashi turned another page in his horrible book of pornography.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it has been one hundred million years but this has always been a fic ive picked at like a carrion bird, when the mood strikes me
> 
> here is a short and paltry offering


End file.
